


Stay With Me

by Boi_Ginny



Series: With Me [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 14:51:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boi_Ginny/pseuds/Boi_Ginny
Summary: This takes place after the events of Captain America: Civil War, so it’s my imaginings of what happens next. Bucky is repaired and released from King T’Challa’s care into Steve’s. This is their happy ending.





	Stay With Me

Bucky stood in the living room of Steve’s apartment in Wakanda. Awake. Alive. Whole. King T’Challa’s guilt over his pursuit of Bucky brought the considerable resources of Wakanda to bear on bringing him back. Scott joined a team of engineers designing and replacing his arm. Tony could have done it alone, but no. Not Tony. Never Tony. Never again. The replacement was still better than the original without him, lighter and more sensitive. And when Bucky’s body was healed Wanda brought him the rest of the way, sewing his mind back together with her threads of red light. The magic of his connection to Steve had limits. Wanda’s didn’t.

When King T’Challa called him and told him Bucky was being released, Steve was at the door of the hospital in minutes. He brought Bucky back to his apartment, driving almost entirely in silence. Bucky had nowhere else to go.

“Geez. Look at this place,” Bucky said, turning circles on the floor, wrapped up small in himself in the admittedly huge space.

“Yeah. Being a superhero has its perks,” Steve said. “Apparently whenever someone puts my face on a lunchbox I get a little bit of money. And there are a lot of lunchboxes.”

“They’re gonna have to reprint those lunchboxes, Steve. You’ve gone a little…”

Bucky waved his hand in a loose circle indicating Steve’s face. Steve smiled tightly. The beard. He knew Bucky was going to say something.

“Feral.”

“Right. Says you.”

Bucky smirked. “Not bad though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’d buy one of those lunchboxes.”

Steve smiled, and Bucky shrugged.

“Well it would help you keep paying the rent on this place. It’s gotta be ridiculous. Our old place in Brooklyn would fit in the damn kitchen.”

“Near enough.”

Steve sat on the arm of the couch, swinging one foot, feigning a casual mood he did not feel.

“So, since I’ve obviously got the space, why don’t you stay with me?”

Bucky said “Ha,” but there was no humor in it. “Well you don’t waste any time do you.”

“I’ve done too much of that in my life,” Steve said. “Figure now’s as good a time as any to break the habit.”

Bucky glanced around the apartment, silently counting doors, and raised an eyebrow.

“You got two beds?”

Steve inhaled sharply. Oh. _That’s not what I meant_. Bucky just thought Steve was trying to sleep with him. Damn and blast.

Steve shrugged. “No,” he said, “but the couch is comfortable. I’ll flip you for it.”

“Funny. I don’t think you’re just asking me to be a roommate.”

What Steve didn’t say was, _I can’t ask you for that_. The times they had been together before, that had been under duress. A fearful crunch of time and danger that wasn’t present here. If Bucky wanted to be with him again, wanted to be “together” with suggestive hand motions, Steve would be more than willing. But he knew, and hoped Bucky could believe, that he would want him to stay regardless.

Steve made himself wave the comment away. “You can think that if you want. But that is all I’m asking. I’ll take the couch. I mean it.”

Bucky smiled cold. He was pulling up the shade over his eyes again. Steve felt quiet fear start to writhe in the pit of his stomach. “S’probably not a good idea Steve. I mean, you’re a superhero and I’m a villain. How would that look on a lunchbox?”

Steve laughed, but he didn’t like the sound of it. Bucky was better at being dismissive than he was. It would help if Bucky didn’t have a point, and Steve wasn’t relying on the fact that he just didn’t care.

“Oh I don’t care about that,” he said. “Tony’s lawyers got all that money for me, I didn’t ask for it. And after the Sokovia Accords I’m not an Avenger anymore. Just an ex-pat living on King T’Challa’s amnesty, same as you.”

Which was close enough to the truth to pass muster. The differences in their situations didn’t bear mentioning. Steve toed at Bucky’s hip, wrangling his face into a gentle welcome to hide the pleading.

“Besides, we look pretty good together on a lunchbox. I’ve seen it.”

“Well then you’re calling lawyers for me too.”

Steve sighed. Bucky was still good at the sidetracking game. But Steve was still dogged. “Fine. Maybe tomorrow. Come on, Buck. I’m serious. It’s not like we aren’t used to living together.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and stepped back. “You aren’t used to living with someone with night terrors.”

“I’ll manage,” Steve said. “You know me, I can sleep through anything. I’m not gonna make you but you’re not gonna get me to take back the offer.”

Bucky was tightening in on himself, shrinking like Banner when he started to get upset. His hands were fisted in the elbows of his jacket, wringing it out. “I can manage too,” he said, avoiding Steve’s eyes.

“Didn’t say you couldn’t. There’s just no sense in you trying to get a place of your own. This isn’t a cheap city to live in and I’m not letting you hide on the street again.”

“I don’t need your charity,” Bucky mumbled.

“Oh grow up, Bucky!”

Steve regretted the outburst immediately, but Bucky hadn’t even blinked. He was just staring with his face completely blank, jaw set, the ghost’s shutters pulled completely over his face again. Not brave but resigned. He looked like he hardly cared what happened to him anymore. But Steve cared. He held his hands out in apology, and rose to his feet slowly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted. But I promise you this isn’t about charity, or pity, or whatever the hell you’re gonna tell yourself to walk back out of here. You and me, we take care of each other. It’s what we do. Yeah, maybe we could’ve made it through without each other, but you know what? We never had to. And you still don’t.”

“Look, you don’t want me here, Steve.”

Steve let his face slip from its controlled calm. He couldn’t respond with anything but bare honesty. Bucky was standing in his apartment again. Bucky. They were both sure this time. He remembered. And Steve knew exactly how he felt about that. Let the hope touch his eyes as he took one small step toward Bucky.

“I have never wanted anything more in my life.”

Bucky pursed his lips, looking into Steve and seeing the truth of it. Steve closed the distance between them, and Bucky didn’t move. Light started to shine around the edges of the shutters, a reflection of the hope in Steve’s. Fear unwound.

“It’s peacetime, Buck,” Steve said. “Nobody’s chasing us. We’re safe.”

Bucky nodded. Steve reached out and laid a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. Forced it to stay still, to not wander under his collar, but couldn’t stop the color rising from the middle of his cheeks. He’d fight himself to the day he died just to have Bucky stay, as a friend if he didn’t want to be a lover, but it would take him a lot longer to stop blushing whenever Bucky was close enough to touch.

“Please,” Steve said, as simply as he could. “Stay with me.”

But the words seemed to echo. Something he should have said, ages ago. Something he would have said, if he had known. How many times, before Bucky walked away, should he have told him to stay? So many. Uncountable. But that was then.

Now, Bucky was relaxing, dropping his arms and straightening his shoulders, and breathing more easily. He raised his hand to Steve’s on his shoulder and hooked it up to his lips. He kissed the back of Steve’s knuckles, and the brush of his lips threatened to buckle Steve’s legs. He couldn’t have asked for it, but… if Bucky was kissing him…

Steve leaned forward, ducked his forehead to Bucky’s, and sealed Bucky’s decision. He could be a manipulative son of a gun too when he wanted to be. This time it was worth it. He ran one finger over the line of Bucky’s lips, and Bucky’s eyes closed slowly.

“This isn’t all we get,” Steve said.

Bucky shook his head, and smiled a wry smile. He turned into Steve’s touch, lipping at the tips of his fingers.

“Dammit. Damn you and fuck loving you.”

Steve’s heart soared. Loving you. _Finally_. He angled Bucky’s face up and kissed him tenderly. It was almost chaste, their first kiss here. Steve was still holding back, touching only with the tips of his fingers and the pout of his lips, letting Bucky take initiative or retreat as he wanted. But after an initial brushing contact, when Steve didn’t pull away, Bucky tilted his head and fit his mouth against Steve’s and oh – oh! – he really meant it. Steve slipped his hand around the back of Bucky’s neck, kissing him back now with enthusiastic sweetness. Their lips slid over each other and Steve sucked Bucky’s lower lip between his teeth, was rewarded with a groan.

“You didn’t have to say it,” Steve said against his lips.

“Couldn’t help it,” Bucky replied.

Steve wrapped him up in his arms and nuzzled into his ear.

“If you can say it then I can. I love you.”

Bucky’s arms went up around Steve’s back. He buried his face in Steve’s shoulder, and held him crushing close. There was no shifting out of Bucky’s embrace even if Steve wanted to. His left arm hummed under the strain.

“I love you,” he said, voice shaking.

Steve held him and was held, stroking his hair softly. In love. It wasn’t new, not truly new, between them. But the openness was new. He let himself replay the sound of Bucky’s voice saying the words in his mind. Not just loving him but saying it. Hearing it. Living it, if they could.

“Does this mean you’re staying?” Steve asked, just to hear him say that too.

“Yeah, Steve. I’ll stay,” Bucky said.

“Good,” Steve said, kissing featherlight across his cheek. “You’ll love it here. I do.” Steve kissed the tip of his nose, making him wrinkle it in amused protest. “I can kiss you in the daylight.”

“What difference does that make?” Bucky said.

“We’re not hiding,” Steve said, and Bucky smiled.

“Besides, your hair is prettier in the sun,” Steve said, running his hands through it to demonstrate. “Though I still think it’s a tactical disadvantage, having long hair, since I can do this.”

Steve fisted his hair and pulled, not hard but making his point, and Bucky laughed. Bright and unequivocal, a truly happy sound. It wound down Steve’s spine and tingled out to the ends of his fingers, the most beautiful sound he had heard in years, and Steve dedicated himself in that moment to making it happen, again and again, for the rest of his life.

Bucky bared his teeth playfully. “Nobody gets close enough to pull my hair.”

Steve bobbed his eyebrows and tilted his wrist just enough to pull again. “I did.”

Bucky grumbled begrudging acceptance. “You’re special.”

“Awh, thanks pal.”

“Pal my ass.”

Steve put on a fake frown, eyes sparkling behind it.

“Not pal? What, you’re not my best pal anymore?”

Bucky kissed him, smothering his chuckling. 

“It sounds ridiculous,” Bucky said when they broke apart. “I know what you’re gonna do to me. You don’t do that to a pal.”

“Oh you know what I’m gonna do to you? Wanda make you psychic too?”

“Doesn’t take a psychic, with that look on your face.”

Steve was momentarily abashed. He couldn’t lie, even to himself, about what he wanted to do to Bucky. But he’d tried to keep any pressure out of the situation. He would be a little ashamed if he’d failed. “Am I that transparent?”

“Yes. And thank God you are. I haven’t tried to do this any other way than fast and hard since the forties. I need all the help I can get.”

“Hey, you know, you don’t have to…”

Steve waved his hands vaguely, forming the shape of thoughts it was easier not to voice, taking in the curve of Bucky’s face, the lean lines of his body, a back and forth connection to his own. It had to be said. Even if it was said with his hands.

And Bucky nodded. “Yeah, you said. I still want to.”

“We have all the time in the world here. I don’t want you to think just cuz you’re staying…”

“I know. I know, Steve. And thank you. But please stop talking. Please.”

Steve smirked. “Say that again.”

Bucky leaned close, nuzzled into Steve’s face. He murmured, “Please,” dropping his voice to a low hiss of desire. And Steve knew it was deliberate, knew he was teasing, but let him. Because it worked.

Steve captured Bucky’s mouth in a solid deep kiss, and the intention of his touch changed. He was grasping at Bucky, clutching his body, hands rough and insistent. He kissed him fiercely, claiming his mouth, and Bucky surrendered. This was Steve’s raw, unfiltered passion, and all he’d needed was Bucky’s willingness to express it. Steve trailed kisses across Bucky’s face as he yanked his jacket off to remove at least one layer between them. He nipped down Bucky’s neck, paying special attention to the curve where it met his shoulder. Bucky’s head lolled back, and he gasped enjoyment and encouragement. Steve’s hands explored his body, rediscovering every line of muscle though his shirt and testing every dip with his fingers. He listened for Bucky’s gasps and lavished attention on the sensitive places he found. Bucky was writhing against him, transported. Steve reveled in him, in his pleasure.

Bucky ducked his head into Steve’s shoulder and opened his mouth on Steve’s skin, playing with lips and teeth and making Steve gasp. Steve moved a hand up into Bucky’s hair, twined his fingers into the soft strands and gripped firmly, eliciting a deep moan from Bucky. Steve pulled his hair back and kissed him again. He could never get enough of kissing him. And Bucky just tried to keep up, returning Steve’s kisses with his own desperate willingness.

Bucky canted his hips forward, and Steve groaned. Oh, he was willing, alright. But Steve was cautious to the end. He sighed, hid embarrassment with a smile and shook his head. “Buck… You know, I still haven’t… at all? Except with you?”

“That’s a fucking crime, Steve. Keeping a curtain pulled over this absolute masterpiece.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky lightly punched his shoulder.

“You should’ve been knee deep in it since you woke up you stupid punk! You know you could get anyone you wanted, right?”

Steve shrugged. “Captain America could. But you know that always bothered me and I don’t… It’s just uncomfortable.”

“Remember you’re talking to the Winter Soldier.”

Steve shook a finger in his face. “No the hell I’m not, I’m talking to Bucky Barnes. That’s my point. You are the only person I know who doesn’t just see me as Captain America out of costume. You’re the only person who has even met Steve Rogers.”

Bucky nodded. He wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist and dropped his head to his shoulder. “And you are literally the only person I know who doesn’t think of me as the Winter Soldier possibly reformed.”

“There. We should be together, then. Clearly.”

And Bucky laughed again. As if Steve needed more to be sure. “Seriously Steve… You’re really gonna hitch your horse to this broken wagon?”

Steve kissed the side of his neck. “Wouldn’t give it a second thought. I’m not fussed about the Winter Soldier. That’s history. If you say you’re Bucky then you are. And you’re here. And to all appearances you actually want to be with me, so that’s that. It’s pretty simple to me.”

“I envy that.” Bucky pulled him closer and nuzzled into his shoulder. “I’m not simple, Steve. And I’m not easy. I’m not gonna try to convince you this is a bad idea. I’m not your momma, may she rest in peace, and you’re a grown ass man who can make his own daffy decisions. But… you can’t say you weren’t warned.”

“Duly noted.” Steve leaned back to look at him, smiled and kissed him softly. “I will give that warning the weight I think it deserves.”

“Make you a deal, Steve,” Bucky said. “I won’t get on you for what you haven’t done if you won’t get on me for what I have.”

“Deal. Now let me play a little catch-up.”

Steve swept Bucky’s feet out from under him and caught him up, lifting him and carrying him into his bedroom. He was plenty heavy but Steve was plenty strong, and Bucky’s whooping laugh when Steve picked him up was worth any cost in his shoulders later. That was future Steve’s problem. And he’d been screwing that guy over for decades.

Bucky caught him around the neck when Steve went to deposit him on his bed, dragging him down too. Steve resisted only enough to avoid falling onto him elbows first, listing off to the side and thudding down to a protest of his bedsprings. They were going to have to get used to it.

And there was something delicious about necking like teenagers with all their clothes on, learning how to touch each other without a rush. They kissed languidly, again and again, sneaking their lips under the collars of each other’s shirts, slipping fingers under their sleeves to find more skin, feeling only the hint of each other’s shape and warmth. Steve found the way Bucky melted into him when he wrapped his hand under his jaw to pull him deeper into a kiss. Bucky found the way Steve growled and dug his fingers into Bucky’s flesh when Bucky bit his bottom lip, a gentle game of predation they would both win. Steve found that he missed the sensation on his face of Bucky’s skin and his touch, but then again… Not bad, huh? Maybe he’d keep the beard, if Bucky liked it.

They removed each others shirts by inches, pulling them up to touch and stopping, then pulling them up further to kiss, and finally giving up and tossing them aside. They mingled kisses with playful tussling like eighty years had not passed and they could still kick each other around, finding much more mass behind the shoves and glorying in each others’ strength. Bucky tried to lever Steve off of him, only succeeded momentarily, and failed with a glowing smile. Steve suspected he was fighting to lose, enjoyed being on his back and at Steve’s mercy, but made a good show of it. Steve was delighted.

Bucky stretched out on Steve’s sheets in the sunlight. It revealed a network of scars that had been obscured in the dark of their first time together, writing the story of a man dead and back again, and Steve almost regretted that the serum prevented the same story being told on his own body. It would only be fair. He flattened his hand on Bucky’s chest, smoothing across scars that just felt like skin, each part of the man he loved.

Bucky arched into Steve’s touch, reminding him more and more of a cat, and Steve half expected him to start purring. The mechanisms of his arm did, when he reached up and ran titanium fingers down Steve’s ribs, the cold tending the touch toward a tickle and making Steve wriggle away. Which just encouraged Bucky to do it again, brushing whirring fingers over Steve’s skin and grinning when he tried, though not too hard, to flee. Finally Steve grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm above his head, distracting him from his mission with a kiss. They both knew well enough that that arm could break out of Steve’s grip whenever Bucky wanted, but Bucky let himself be distracted, and interlocked his fingers with Steve’s in the pillow.

Steve trailed kisses across his face, murmuring. “So if I can’t call you pal what can I call you?”

Bucky huffed a laugh. “Are you always this chatty in bed, Rogers?”

Steve nibbled his neck. “Honey? Sweetie? Baby?”

Bucky writhed under his mouth. “Shut up.”

Steve grinned against his skin. “Make me.”

Bucky hummed, amusement and pleasure. “That’s a trap.”

Steve caught the lobe of his ear, sucked it between his teeth until Bucky moaned. He let go, and whispered.

“You’ll fall for it.”

Bucky sighed. “Every goddamn time.”

Bucky arched up for a kiss, and Steve pulled back. Bucky tried to dart forward, but Steve was faster. He let Bucky get close, close enough to brush his nose against his cheek, but wouldn’t let his lips connect. He kept Bucky’s arm pinned above his head and hovered over him, teased down with his breath and soft press of his cheek against Bucky’s. 

Bucky’s frustration was palpable. He whimpered when Steve leaned close, arched his back seeking contact.

He made a sound like a sob. And whispered. “Please.”

And Steve rewarded him, kissing him deep and hard, basking in Bucky’s happy capitulation to his desire. God he was beautiful when he begged. Steve released the hand he still had pinned and Bucky’s arms went fast around his back, turning him onto his side to clasp him in a tight embrace. Steve tried to make his breathing slow, remember he had time, but it was clear the time he was spending was leading up to something and he’d better get to it.

He fingered at the edge of Bucky’s pants, teasing just the pads of his fingers across the curve of Bucky’s hips and down, under the elastic of his boxers. Bucky moaned, and Steve slid his fingers around to the buckle of his belt. He unfastened it slowly, deliberately dragging his knuckles across Bucky’s erection, and kissing him through his tantalizing. He eased the zipper of his pants down, pressing in to give him some welcome friction, watching him bite his lip in anticipation. Steve’s thumb hooked under the waistband of his pants and underwear together and drew them down just over his hip, stopping to reach his hand under and splay across Bucky’s ass and squeeze. Bucky sighed frustration and canted his hips into Steve’s, meeting tease with tease against the stressed fabric of Steve’s pants, and Steve gave in. He shouldered Bucky onto his back and pulled his clothes off completely, dropping them forgotten off the foot of the bed.

Steve found himself sitting up on his knees at Bucky’s feet, admiring the view of every sun drenched inch of James Buchanan Barnes. His face must have betrayed his arousal at the sight, because Bucky cocked a puckish half smile and raised his arms over his head, stretching his entire body luxuriously for Steve to watch. Sunlight spilled across olive skin like it was as desperate as Steve to touch. Steve’s pants were suddenly altogether too tight, and he dropped them with his boxers on the floor. Bucky propped his head up on one arm to watch, and ran the tip of his tongue across his lips.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“Yeah? You like what you see?”

“Hells yes I do.” Bucky’s eyes focused on his groin, and he bit his bottom lip. “I sure have a lot to thank doctor Erskine for.”

Steve felt the blush start again, and the desire to play coy, but this time it met a rascally notion coming the other way. He set his shoulders back and his feet a step apart and took himself in his hand, stroking slowly while he gazed down at Bucky spread out on his bed.

“Oh this didn’t change,” Steve said, rumbling low. “You could’ve been taking this cock since Brooklyn, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes snapped wide and his mouth dropped open in shock. Not at Steve’s exact size – he was a little bigger than average but well within the range of normal – but because Steve had actually opened his mouth and said something so filthy. It helped that it was all true. The serum hadn’t done much to his extremities. And it would have taken nothing more than a word to get him to bend Bucky over their creaking camp beds in that tiny apartment and give him every bit of it. Probably just the word “Please.”

But Bucky was quick. His shock didn’t last. It turned up at the corners to become a sly smile, and he crooked a finger at Steve.

“Then you might as well get back over here and make up for lost time.”

As if there had been any doubt. Steve climbed back between Bucky’s feet, laid his hands on Bucky’s knees and ran them up over his thighs. He brushed his thumbs in close at Bucky’s groin, smoothing down dark whorls of hair. Bucky’s erection jumped at the near miss, and Steve leaned down over him. Bucky gasped surprise when Steve ran his tongue up the length of him, and his surprise amused Steve enough to drop his head down and take most of Bucky into his mouth in one go.

Bucky’s cry was so loud it almost sounded like pain. But he cursed “God damn, Steve,” in a breathless whine, and Steve knew it for shocked pleasure and counted it as a win.

Steve had always taken for granted the directionality of pleasure in a blowjob. One person was giving pleasure, and the other was receiving it. But he was thrilled to learn that he enjoyed the feeling of Bucky in his mouth on its own merits, in addition to the pleasure it was obviously giving Bucky. He liked the weight of him on his tongue, the slide of paper thin soft skin over the firmness underneath, the heat filling his mouth. He gave Bucky some credit for honestly wanting to do this to him, in that workshop in Berlin, and honestly enjoying it.

He indulged himself, stroking with his tongue and toying with suction in his cheeks, until Bucky dug his fingers into his arm and grumbled “Oh fucking hell,” stiffening noticeably in his mouth. Steve mentally rewound his playing to remember what he’d just done and did it again, bobbing his head on Bucky’s cock and flicking his tongue across the head on the upward motion. Bucky groaned, and his fingers rolled up to the nails in Steve’s arm. Steve couldn’t use his mouth to smile at the same time but if he could have, he would have. 

He put the movement on repeat. His free hand wandered up Bucky’s abdomen and down his legs, consuming as his mouth was. Bucky’s every inhale was a gasp, his every exhale a moan or a curse. Jesus, Bucky was loud when he had an excuse to be. Only fierce self control kept Steve from bursting into laughter. Taking Bucky apart was so much _fun_.

When Bucky’s curses turned to prayers to God and heaven Steve sped his motions slightly, and Bucky settled almost completely still under him. Steve’s mind flashed through confusion again but remembered, was overjoyed to get the chance to experience a confirmation, that Bucky didn’t tense into his orgasm. He relaxed and let it wash over him. And sure enough, Bucky’s hands tightened painfully around Steve’s arms and he whispered, “Jesus Christ Steve, I’m gonna come.”

That was polite, Steve thought briefly, appreciating the warning before Bucky screamed and his hips bucked up off the bed, and he spasmed on Steve’s tongue. Steve supposed he could have taken Bucky’s warning to get his mouth off of him if he’d wanted to, to not have the salt tang of Bucky’s come coating his tongue and sliding down his throat, but it hadn’t occurred to him. He wanted it, delighted in it, was almost brought to laughter again by the throbbing in his mouth and the spurting of Bucky’s release. It was his doing, his fault, and he was overjoyed by what he could do to his best friend.

When Bucky twitched and made a sound that wasn’t pleasure Steve pulled his mouth back, and then he did laugh, softly, pressing his forehead into Bucky’s thigh.

Bucky smacked his shoulder. “The hell you laughing at, Rogers?”

Steve shook his head, propped himself up on his elbows to look up at him, letting a crazed grin take over his face. He licked his lips slowly for emphasis. “I just went down on Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky smiled with drawn brows, amused but a little lost. “You fucked Bucky Barnes.”

“That was different and you know it.”

Steve crawled up the bed and pulled Bucky into his arms, kissing the sunlight glinting in his hair. “This is fun.”

“Excuse me? Fucking me wasn’t fun?”

“No.” Steve tightened his arms around Bucky, remembering. “That was painful.”

Bucky nodded, conceding, and kissed him. “Yeah. Don’t regret it, but… Yeah. It was.”

The silence went on a little too long, as they both remembered their first night together. It had better context now, laying comfortable together in love and safety. But at the time… Steve quickly reached the decision that he’d rather be making new memories than dwelling on the old ones.

“I love you,” he said, bringing them back.

Bucky smiled. “I could get used to hearing that.”

“Not gonna give you much choice, lover.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and blinked. “Alright, I don’t hate that.”

“Good enough.”

“So, lover” Bucky arched an eyebrow and looked up at Steve through his considerable eyelashes. “You wanna have fun fucking Bucky Barnes?”

Steve’s erection twitched just hearing the words. “Oh God yes.”

Steve held Bucky down on his back when he tried to sit up and turn over. Steve knew, intellectually, that there were other positions they could be in, and that they may even be easier, but they were going to have to wait until the novelty of watching Bucky’s face had worn off. Some day, Steve would have seen Bucky wracked with bliss often enough that he would be able to let him turn his back and take him that way. Not today.

Steve could see in his imagination what he wanted to do, and backed up to the beginning to see how to get there. Sex was much easier when he wasn’t in a desperate haze. He retrieved lubrication from his drawer and poured it over his fingers and Bucky drew his knees up, planting his feet on the bed to lift his hips and make it easier for Steve to touch him. Steve slicked across Bucky’s opening, touching around first and enjoying the sounds Bucky made waiting. Steve extended one finger slowly into his body, felt him tighten and relax, and again found happy surprise in the reciprocal pleasure he hadn’t expected. Even on his fingers Bucky felt good, hot and soft, and Steve could enjoy touching him for his own sake.

He said so, sliding that one finger back and forth, curling it slightly, watching Bucky’s eyes roll up and his hands fist the sheets. “You feel incredible, Buck. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.”

“Thought you were gonna fuck me,” Bucky gasped.

Steve grinned. “Still gonna. Just saying.”

Steve pulled his hand back completely and put the tips of two fingers together to press into him again. He looked down, doing a quick visual comparison, figured when he could do that with three without hurting Bucky he’d be able to do what he wanted.

He asked, occasionally, if that was good, if Bucky liked that, and Bucky could answer about half the time. The other half of his answers were in the form of his moans. Bucky was gone, his head rolling on the pillow, hips rocking involuntarily down onto Steve’s fingers. Steve twisted his two fingers and watched Bucky’s face for discomfort he did not find, before he pulled back again and held his first three fingers as close together as possible to slide in and open him further. Bucky was starting to cuss again, and Steve just smiled at every tumbling “Fuck!” when he rolled and curled his fingers inside him. Steve slid his fingers parallel to each other, slowly, rotating his hand, and by that point Bucky’s body was more than welcoming of the gentle stretch. Perfect.

Steve retrieved his hand and tipped the bottle into it again, slicking his throbbing erection and savoring the heat from Bucky’s body that had been transferred to his fingers. He leaned down over Bucky, kissing him briefly, finding his opening again with blind fingers and the aching head of his cock. He paused, holding his face just above Bucky’s, feeling their breath play across each other’s cheeks, and brought him to focus.

“Look at me,” he growled softly.

When Bucky met his eyes, broadcasting willing anticipation, Steve dropped his hips and disappeared inside Bucky’s body in one smooth motion. Bucky’s eyes flew wide and his mouth dropped open with his surprised inhale, and his sighing exhale contained the words “Oh Jesus yes.” And that was exactly what Steve wanted to do.

He hadn’t exactly forgotten what it was like inside Bucky. Two years wasn’t long enough to forget something so amazing. But he’d treated the memories as a dream, an unreal moment that he couldn’t realistically expect repetition of with Bucky hiding God knew where across the world from him. He’d lived as if it hadn’t really happened, had to, to keep living at all. So when he seated himself and recognized the intense heat of their connection his body reacted as to a dream come true, warning him almost immediately that after the playing and the teasing and the pleasure he’d pulled from Bucky’s that he was already close to finishing. So he withdrew, regretting even the momentary coolness of the air against him instead of the unbelievable warmth inside Bucky, but craving that long slide again. Bucky whined when he pulled back, and when he buried himself again in one stroke Bucky sighed and lifted his feet off the bed, locking them behind Steve’s waist to keep him down. Steve stayed, rolling his hips in short motions for a moment, as deep as he could stay and still move.

Bucky’s slack face read mostly relief, like having Steve inside him was a comfort. Steve determined to get Bucky to show him what that felt like, some other time. He figured Bucky would be game. Might even be better at it than Steve, for all he knew. But Bucky was clearly glad of the position he was in at the moment, gasping inarticulate half words of pleasure and flexing his hips to meet Steve’s thrusts.

Bucky was doing most of the work with his legs, pulling himself up and relaxing back down at a rhythm that intensified Steve’s. They rocked together like that, playing tortured music on the bedsprings, until Steve felt the narrowing path to his orgasm approaching, and rejected it. Not so soon. He stilled, reached behind himself and grabbed for one of Bucky’s feet to unclasp his ankles. He couldn’t let Bucky set the pace, not if he was going to last.

He kissed him in comfort of the loss of friction, and holding his lips withdrew completely, fully intending to reseat himself immediately. But Bucky’s sudden whimper came with a desperately whispered “No,” and “Please,” and Steve gave in to an impulse to meanness. Playing would give him a moment to come back from the edge.

“Please what?” he said, licking between Bucky’s lips.

“Please. Come back,” Bucky gasped, grabbing for his hips.

“I’m right here,” Steve said, kissing his cheek and suppressing a grin.

Bucky hissed through gritted teeth. “Steve, please… Please keep fucking me.”

And as much as he wanted to make Bucky keep begging, Steve did honestly want to keep fucking him. Steve sat back on his haunches and hauled Bucky’s hips into his lap. Bucky folded, drawing his knees into his chest, reaching his left hand above his head to steady himself against the bedframe before Steve plunged into him again.

“Ah God,” Bucky breathed. “God Steve you feel so good.”

 _That’s good to know,_ Steve thought.

“You have no idea,” he actually said, gripping Bucky’s hips tight and driving into him with all the leverage he wanted. He could be grateful to Erskine, sometimes, and was then, when the strength in his arms let him just hold Bucky up exactly where he wanted him and drive into him to his heart’s content. That position kept his thrusts shallow, and he was dragging across Bucky’s prostate, he knew, from the great groaning cries that tore out of him. Bucky was hard again, bouncing against his own stomach, and Steve decided that if he could make Bucky come again doing this then he was going to. 

So he kept his movements hard and fast, not what he wanted most but what he rightly figured would get Bucky off, and watched Bucky atomize underneath him, screwing his eyes shut to focus on the pleasure. When he started to relax and his body went loose again, and Steve felt the muscles inside tense around him, he dug his fingers into Bucky’s hips to make him open his eyes.

“No,” he said, panting but forcing the real words out. “Look at me.”

And Bucky did, visibly fighting the impulse to close his eyes again, and Steve almost thought he looked afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid of pleasure? Of love? It took him a moment to remember how long Bucky had gone without either, how strange it must be for him after so long. Steve at least had companionship in the meantime. Bucky had been alone. So Steve didn’t comment on his fear, just held his eyes and powered through it with the dedication of his own body, until Bucky’s fear fell apart on his face into the startled realization of his impending orgasm. Steve beamed down at him, and watched him shatter.

Steve gave Bucky only a moment to regroup before he laid out over him, kissing him hard into the pillow, and resumed the long deep thrusts that had set off the bells in his mind to begin with. They started to chime again, and he let them this time, sheathing himself in his lover and pressing their bodies together across their entire lengths.

“I love you,” he whispered into Bucky’s hair when the bells reached their crescendo.

“I love you,” Bucky’s voice echoed with the music in his head when he released with a quiet groan. “Please. Yes. I love you.”

Steve could hear sounds of wordless amazement tear out of his throat, but they came from far away. He was flying, and Bucky was holding him up. He wasn’t sure he’d remembered that part right. The awesome synergy of their orgasms together, feeding back into each other, an unbelievable magnification of his pleasure because it was Bucky and he was loving it, clasping Steve close and relishing his release as much as his own. Steve’s back arched and he dug his fingers into Bucky’s ribs and he knew he was going to have to apologize for bruises later. When he regained sense.

Which he did. Slowly. The fog behind his eyes drifted away and again, incredibly, he was staring down at Bucky. It was unfathomable. But it was real. And this time, this time, he knew he could do it again. He’d found a place he could return to. Bucky was with him. And Bucky was home.

And Bucky was smiling at him, nosing into his face, kissing his cheek. The sun sparkled on the panels of his left arm, still draped over Steve’s, and even that was beautiful here. Steve moved back slowly, dropped to the bed on Bucky’s right side, and pulled him down to pillow his head on Steve’s chest. Bucky’s right arm was pinned under him, and he would have to reach for Steve with his left if he was going to touch him at all. So Steve could watch the glinting light play over him, and Bucky could watch his smile. Bucky did reach for him, and the sun did make a work of art of his arm, and Steve did smile. He was going to have to try to draw that, one of these days.

Bucky tipped his head up for a kiss and Steve delivered, easy as breathing. How? How was this so easy? How had they found and met each other’s rhythm so effortlessly, even the first time, urging each other on and finding each other already there? Steve felt like he’d been this close to Bucky his entire life, but he knew – his memory was very clear – he hadn’t. With the uncertainty of being with the ghost that had broken into his apartment, and the desperate fear of touching him before they went to the airport, he almost felt that this was their first time together. How was it so familiar? Steve decided he had just known him, known _Bucky_ so intimately that the knowing turned into this like breathing turns into laughing.

When Bucky pulled back for breath and opened his eyes, meeting Steve’s, Steve gaped at him. Tears shone in Bucky’s eyes, but they were the sparkling edge of a soft smile. And Steve understood. They had always loved each other, in different ways at different times. This transition was easy for Bucky too, and easy enough to be startling. Overlaying this intimacy on what they had always had, but losing nothing. Gaining so much. Their fierce dedication to each other had been unquestioned every day he could remember. They were bound to each other, and now that bond included this heat and desire. And it was still right. Somehow, they were resolving themselves to continuing in that life, where they were together and they were lovers and nothing had changed. The same smile mirrored itself on Steve’s face.

Bucky shifted back when Steve moved in for another kiss, just staring. His eyes were wide, cheeks flushed, mouth red and kiss swollen, and he gazed up with such reverence Steve’s heart ached.

“I just want to remember this,” Bucky said when Steve’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t want to forget.”

Steve choked off a sob and cupped his face gently. “I’m so sorry Bucky. God I’m so sorry. Never again. I swear, never again.”

Bucky could only nod, and lift his hands to run his fingers over Steve’s face. Steve just stayed still while Bucky touched him, remembered him, built new memories of his face. Tears slid down his cheek and Bucky gently wiped them away. The tiny plates of Bucky’s fingers caught the hair on his face, but Steve refused to flinch or ask him to stop. Bucky was sniffling himself, and that, crying softly against each other, was as deep a coming together as anything that had come before.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

Their tears dried. Bucky stayed. Steve watched his eyelids grow heavy in the afterglow and close, and gave in when his started to fall as well. Bucky was still there, his weight still on Steve’s chest, his breath under Steve’s chin. The room was silent, heavy with the warmth of them, and in the rumpled sheets gathered around them bearing witness to the lovers together, Steve slept.

**Author's Note:**

> I can only torture these boys for so long. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
